XXX.

Arrival

The silence was suffocating and consuming. The smell was everywhere—smoke and burnt hair and something dark and sinister—and despite his previous revulsion he was thankful for the cloak and the protection it offered his pounding heart. He drew the hood up over his eyes and walked through the gray sand, treading a winding path that was all too familiar. He was breathing harshly, his mind racing in a million directions, thinking of his friends, of what he had to do, what he had to say. If he were being honest with himself, he hadn't had enough practice bullshitting.

The darkness pressed in on him. He could feel the Heartless, watching, waiting, but remaining at bay. Possibly they recognized the cloak, and what it meant for their kind. He was grateful that he didn't have to run.

Ahead of him, he saw the dim lights of the Nobody city. He paused. He could run right now, run into the abyss, be gone forever, go to any world of his choosing.

No. He couldn't. There was no way this was all in vain. There had to be something he could still do while he was alive. Still, he had the deep gut feeling that he wasn't going back.

He pushed into the night sky. In the World that Never Was it was raining. Demyx tipped his head up to feel it. Drew strength from it.

Instantly he felt the air press around him. He saw nothing, but he guessed somebody—or something—was on patrol in the area. All of his senses were on high alert, tinged with a brink of panic. He wove through the streets at a pace slightly faster than normal. Anticipation flooded him.

The castle. The god damn castle. It stared down at him, massive and white and unyielding. Demyx felt more presences pressing into his consciousness, all of them sticky with darkness and Nobody blood. He approached the bottom stairs, shaking all over, but he hoped that the fear would be what the committee wanted him to present.

Someone was waiting in the doorway. Demyx recognized the fit of the cloak instantly and tried not to clench his fists.

"I was wondering when you'd bother to turn up," Braig said jovially. "You have a pretty good sense of timing. You know that?" His hood was pulled up, showing nothing but the gaping maw of the hood.

Demyx floundered. "…I do?" he asked.

"Yep. You do. Oh, come on, don't be scared. Don't give me that look. I just wanna talk. Isn't that why you're here?"

A seed of nausea tightened in his stomach. How had Braig known? "Well… yes…"

"That's not a good way to treat an old friend, is it?"

He took a deep breath. "Hello, Braig."

"Hello!" he said rather cheerfully.

"How've you been?"

"Oh, me? I'm peachy. Just peachy." He remained standing in the middle of the doorway, his hands on his hips. "You, on the other hand, have seen better days."

Demyx took a deep breath. "About that. You know what happened to me, don't you?"

There was silence on Braig's part for a beat longer than was natural.

"That's why I'm here," he continued in a low voice. "Look, I can help you. There are things I know about Sora and the Restoration Committee. If you can fix me, I'll… I'll tell you everything."

A low chuckle came from inside the hood. "You really haven't changed a bit, have you?"

The tone of his voice was meant to placate Demyx, but still he could feel something waiting to spring. "I guess not."

Braig took a step closer. He planted both hands on his shoulders and it took all of Demyx's strength not to flinch away or retaliate. He stared deep into his eyes from the blackness. Demyx could just see the outline of Braig's chin. Braig clucked his tongue and let him go.

"So what's your deal? Why'd you come back, after so long?"

He spoke cautiously. "Like I just said. I want to be healed. And I hate that they were using me."

Braid nodded studiously. "Using you how?"

"Using my power. Never giving me information about my condition, even though they had it. They wanted me to use my power against you, not just to gather intelligence, but in the fight. They never liked me, much, even in the old days. They only saved me because they felt they had to."

"But the committee took to you like glue, didn't they," he said calmly.

"Because I helped them through a drought. And I only did that because it saved me, too." He wondered if he was overdoing it. "…As it turns out, do a favor for them and they do one for you."

"Always an opportunist. What do you mean by that?" Braig asked.

He hesitated. He had Braig's interest, but he couldn't tell whether or not he really believed him, or if he really had any power to negotiate. "There was an attack plan on the vessels," he said. "And that's all I'll say until we come up with a deal."

Braig's laughter was genuine this time. "Okay, all right, fine. What do you say we play truth for truth? Here's my first question for you. How did you expect to get away with this?"

A finger of panic slithered down Demyx's spine. "What?" he asked blankly.

"Not a word of what you just said to me is true," Braig said in a clear voice. "You're lying through your teeth. You used to be so good at it." In a flash, he was behind Demyx and wrenched back both of his arms. "So good. You know, I almost believed you. The fear in your voice. That hurt look in your eye. But you forgot a few things. You idiot."

He fought against his constraints, fear coursing through him. He didn't know how to react.

"Zexion used to sew our cloaks once they got ripped up," he said calmly. "I'd recognize that handiwork anywhere. Why would they fix it for you unless they intended for you to use it?" He tightened his grip on Demyx's wrists, pressing it hard against his shoulder blade. "I could see your resolve in your eyes. No. You're not that weak or slimy anymore. Your life doesn't mean shit to you the way you are now."

His breath was coming raggedly now.

Braig laughed. "Come on! You have to admit it's funny."

Braig was holding him so tightly it hurt and he couldn't get any words out.

"This is rich. Rich! To think we wasted all that energy preparing you, only for you to try and double-cross us on their behalf. Yep! Charade's up! It was me! I did it! I broke you. And," he added, like an afterthought, "I'll break you again. Buh-bye." A needle pierced the skin of Demyx's neck. He fought the tranquilizer, but his powers couldn't neutralize whatever this was, and he collapsed in a heap in Braig's arms.

Dazzling, dazzling whiteness.

The room was huge. The domed ceiling was actually so high up he couldn't even see it properly. The floor was smooth shiny tile, and for a moment he saw his own terrified face as he tried to push himself up. He was still here. Still alive. Mostly.

A soft pop. Braig appeared at the other edge of the room, approaching slowly. His hood was down now, revealing his bared teeth, his white hair.

"Oh no! The scary old man!" he said loudly. He slipped out of sight, and Demyx turned around, searching for him desperately.

Another pop. "Right behind you," he said into Demyx's ear. Demyx whirled, trying to knee him in the crotch. Pop. "Sucks when your own plan backfires, doesn't it?" And Braig kicked him right in the groin, so hard he almost passed out. "You're supposed to wear a cup. Jackass. All that preparation, and they didn't tell you that much?"

Demyx struggled against the pain. There was something wrong in his body, worse than the pain. His ears were ringing. His powers were gagged, leaving a foggy smear of consciousness where it was supposed to be. His muscles were shaking.

He pulled hard against the fog, reaching for Arpeggio, reaching for something, but nothing came.

Pop. Braig approached him slowly, at a walk, and seized him by the hair. "You know I was rooting for you? I didn't mind you, the way the others did. You tried. You had an admirable will to live. So I figured, hey, I'll give the kid a bone. Rather than letting you be a stone floating through space—that's right, your world doesn't exist anymore, it's still gone, we needed it gone—I thought, I'll put him somewhere. Somewhere nice. Somewhere he's familiar with." He tugged harder and Demyx fought to break his iron grip. "I used you too. Boo-hoo. I knew you would fall in with that crowd if I broke you just a little."

"Why are you telling me this?" Demyx asked through gritted teeth. Part of him writhed for the answers.

"Because, face it, you're not going to be around much longer." Braig let go of his hair and kicked him solidly in the chest. Demyx felt a rib crack. "And I'm not a prick. You at least deserve the truth. Isn't that what this has been about? Not the guilt over your war crimes, not the love, not the friends you made along the way. The truth."

He choked for air and spat up blood.

"Yes. We were going to use you to get information on them," he said boredly. "That's obvious. Sometimes old man Xehanort is an obvious dude. So obvious you'd never be able to realize he was the one doing it in the first place. In fact, he wanted all of you. The whole set, to put up on a shelf. I said that's ridiculous. You can break them, make them a little bit uncomfortable. Let them help Sora, for all I care. Make the other side feel like it has some hope."

He let Demyx go and he fell hard onto the ground. "I haven't had to do this in a while, so forgive me if I'm rusty. Look. I'm rooting for you. If you answer my questions I might just let you go. You couldn't ever go back there. But you could go. How does that sound?"

He touched his right side, the aching rib. He couldn't catch his breath. "I don't know what I could tell you."

"I think you're a whole lot smarter than anyone gives you credit. Isn't that what this is about?" He knelt by Demyx. "Was the committee really trying to attack the vessels?"

Demyx didn't speak. He should have anticipated that somebody would have figured it out in the end. "Yes," he said.

Braig stood up and turned his back. Demyx struggled to sit up.

"Do you know how we used to turn higher Nobodies into Dusks?" he asked finally.

Demyx blinked. The brightness of this room was stabbing his eyes.

"It wasn't just an empty threat. It's possible."

"But I'm human," Demyx said.

"With your heart the way it is? Who knows how you'll react," Braig said. He took something out of his pocket. It was an average, ordinary medical syringe, still in the wrapping. And a vial of grayish liquid. Demyx tried to back away from him, but the pain in his ribs and between his legs hampered him, and Braig quickly teleported over. He opened the syringe and let the wrappings fall to the shiny floor.

Demyx noticed for the first time that there was a drain in the center of the room. A hot flush broke out across his body. He pushed harder against whatever was gagging his powers, only to have blackness temporarily wash over him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Braig said. "That stuff's not exactly good for your nervous system."

He must've been right; Demyx's fingers and toes were feeling numb, but that could have easily been the animal panic sweeping over his mind.

Braig jabbed the needle into the vial and filled it partway. Very calmly, he tapped out the air. "A milliliter won't do much other than cause you pain. But more than that? Who knows." Braig grabbed his arm. He thrashed, trying to pull away. Braig yanked up his sleeve. Demyx went, inexplicably, limp, and it took him a moment to figure out that Braig was manipulating the space around him. He felt the needle go in. A coldness ran through his body as Braig's powers held him down.

The serum scraped like razors across his nerve endings, erupting in a pain he could barely conceive.

"It's not magic, that gets them in the end," Braig said calmly. "It's the pain. Breaks down the will to live, all those higher concepts of self. After that, well, the rest is easy. You shape 'em the way you want 'em, like clay." His face was too close to Demyx's. "Was the committee planning to attack the vessels?"

One word. He just had to say one word. He wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth if he managed to unclench his jaw.

"Take your time," Braig said. "That stuff takes forever to get out of your system."

He couldn't breathe. He wished he would pass out; it would make this end all the sooner. But his body kept drawing breaths. His vision had a strangely sheeny quality and the taste of copper filled his mouth. He just had to say yes. Yes. "…No," he said. He was trembling all over.

"Now that wasn't so hard," Braig said. He pushed a lock of hair out of Demyx's eyes. "All that stuff in your bloodstream now? Makes it pretty damn impossible to lie. You can try all you want. I wouldn't recommend it, though." He paused. "You should have just run. Nobody would have judged you. The only thing you used to be good at was keeping yourself alive, and now you can't even do that."

He choked for air. He was too shocked to cry, or to do anything other than tense up and shut down right there. Luxord's Somebody had been right.

Sorry for the late update. I had a long workday yesterday and didn't have any time to post.

Braig is so much fun to write. What an interesting character.